Here's a real quick English lesson before the post: Irony is the opposite of what most people think it means. You'd expect a big guy to be called "Fatty" so that is not ironic, but calling him "Slim" fits the definition. I've always been clumsy and accident prone and my parents bestowed upon me the ironic nickname "Grace" at an early age. After my OB appointment yesterday, I think I have earned a new ironic nickname. Just call me "Class" from now on. It all started a couple of days ago. . .
I've written about how I primp before a doctor visit and, knowing that I had an upcoming appointment, I decided to get reacquainted with my razor. All was going well until I got to the main attraction. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned the dangers in shaving areas that you can't see after I cut my labia a month or two ago. That sucked, but it was a clean slice and it healed quickly.
So I've established that shaving by touch alone can be hazardous. This time around I not only couldn't see because my belly obscures my line of sight, but also because I've been wearing my glasses and I obviously don't wear those in the shower. Even if I could see my sn@tch around my belly, I wouldn't be able to see it without working eyes. I was blind x 2 and using a sharp instrument on tender areas - what could possibly go wrong?
I passed my razor over what I thought were the edges of the hedges. A rinse revealed to my fingers that I had instead cut a hole right around the middle of the turf up top. How I so badly misjudged where my razor actually was, I have no idea. I might add that things aren't so bushy down below that I could just fluff things up with a hair pick later to disguise the damage. That's right; I may be a hippie, but I still don't sport a pubic 'fro. Figuring that I was probably thinking it looked worse than it really did, I left well enough alone and put my razor away. I actually went to bed and forgot about it.
As is customary, I surveyed the landscape the next morning as I was getting dressed and HOLY CRAP! I had a giant freaking hole in the middle of my pubic hair. I stared at it, wondering how to fix this horrible hair cut when the obvious solution came to me. In for a penny, in for a pound. Yep, I decided to shave it all off.
After I removed every last hair, I remembered why I had used the razor in the first place. I had a dang doctor's appointment. I might tell my doctor about my spontaneous orgasms, I might smile during breast exams, but I have NEVER presented a completely bald vulva for a pelvic exam and the very thought of someone other than my husband seeing EVERYTHING made me feel terribly uncomfortable.
It's not that my vulva is weird or anything (well, any weirder than any of them look), but I just feel ultra-ultra naked when I go totally bare. What woman wants to be ultra-ultra naked with a stranger fingering her in front of her husband? Actually, that might fly in certain circumstances but not with a doctor who I like and trust. Not only that, but friction tends to engorge the area when I don't have a little bit of hair up top to help buffer things and that leaves me feeling extremely turned on and/or looking extremely irritated. I wouldn't care if I was all red and inflamed looking, but I sure as heck don't want the doctor to think that I'm presenting a wet & horny looking pu$$y because of the stupid pelvic exam.
I could have tried to reschedule the appointment, but his schedule is usually very full and I didn't want to risk losing the appointment I did have. I was trying to think when the last time was that I had a pelvic exam and why. All I could come up with was it was when I was still having significant bleeding problems in this pregnancy and I think the last one I had was right after I had completed my first trimester. I decided that I probably wouldn't need another pelvic exam although I'd experienced another spotting episode over Labor Day so I kept my appointment.
You know, I did not have a pelvic exam yesterday so all my worries were for nothing. That's not to say that I didn't do something so totally boneheaded that I still cringe to think of it. Read on. . .
Yesterday was a hot day. It may not have felt all that hot to the non-pregnant members of the population, but it was hot as the blazes to me. When it's hot out, I prefer to nap wearing as little as possible. With this in mind, I stripped off my clothes (including panties & bra) and slipped on a nightgown when it was naptime. I've been sleeping poorly now for weeks upon weeks so I let naptime last as long as I possibly could before having to jam over to the doctor's office.
My hubs woke me up and said that I had to get dressed because we had to go. He grabbed our son and, while getting ready to put our boy in the car, our dumb dog ran out of the house. This happened as I was pulling a dress out of the closet. The yelling, barking, and resulting mayhem caused me to slip the dress over my head and run outside. I grabbed my son, fearing that our dog might become roadkill, and pulled him in the house while hubs dealt with the dog. Hubs got the dog under control and put back in the house. He put the kiddo in the car while I grabbed my shoes and hopped in the car.
Observant readers may notice what I did not put on. What was I not wearing? Panties.
A bare vulva, no panties (bra was missing too, BTW), and a dress. Class, man, pure class. When did I notice my missing undergarments? When we were half-way to the office and were already running late. Wonderful, just wonderful.
I did not have a pelvic exam so one might think that my whorish attire wouldn't be noticed, right? Wrong! Remember that I was wearing a dress? That means that I need to lift my dress to expose my abdomen so the Doppler can amplify the sound of my baby's heartbeat. Generally, my doctor grabs a sheet and tucks it in the waistband of my skirt or pants while performing this part of his exam.
Guess what? There was nothing for him to tuck the sheet into yesterday. Not only that, but he also took a fundal height measurement and that most definitely revealed that not only was I not wearing panties, but that I was ultra-ultra naked down below.
Ever the professional, even with who I assume is his nuttiest (and perhaps sluttiest) patient, he inquired if there was a reason I'd disrobed and if there was something I wanted him to check out. Uh, no Doc, that's pretty f*cking far from what I'd like because now I feel ultra-ultra naked and hella embarrassed. It was like I was the only one who showed up naked on the nude beach. Sure that I could see my husband's smirk in my peripheral vision, I gave a dismissive wave of the hand and simply said, "No. It's a long story." The doctor wisely kept his mouth shut.
I'd say that I'm officially "that" patient and I have most definitely earned my new ironic nickname. Have you ever had an embarrassing mishap while visiting the doctor? Please share and help me feel like I might still have some tiny lingering shred of dignity left intact.